


i love my desire

by sinjoong (undeliveredtruth)



Series: atz requests & randoms [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Fantasy, You can call this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22488481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeliveredtruth/pseuds/sinjoong
Summary: In the moments he can't hold back, San thinks of Wooyoung.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Series: atz requests & randoms [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702567
Comments: 14
Kudos: 249





	i love my desire

The door closes. San locks it, for good measure. Yunho’s still at the studio practicing, which is great because even if he wasn’t, San doesn’t know if he would have been able to hold himself back. 

The remainder of practice thrums in his blood, his movements on the side of jittery, clumsy. He’s always fired up after practice, he justifies, throwing his shirt in the direction of the laundry basket. He misses, expectedly. 

It’s practice. It’s just the practice, he tells himself, but his mind has always been his biggest critic and the quickest to snap its fingers when San is lying to himself. Images of Wooyoung get conjured up behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes, Wooyoung in his grey sweatpants thrusting his hips in the air to the choreography for what seems like a thousand times repeated solely to torture him. Wooyoung’s goal had been to practice his expressions today, see what works, winks and grinds of his teeth and scrunches of his eyebrows before he settled on all of them. Together, all together, thrusting his hips with such precision that it felt like it was his personal mission to make San fall apart. 

He thought he’d get used to it, thought he almost did after a year and a half of training himself to not pop inappropriate boners every time Wooyoung did one of his ridiculous sexy dances on stage, but apparently not. 

Sometimes he snaps. He’s definitely snapping now, dropping down in the chair in front of his desk with a sigh and a hard breath. 

_Fuck Wooyoung,_ he thinks as he pops the button on his pants, drags the zipper down. _Fuck him,_ really, because San’s already half-hard and he’s been for hours, even the feeling of his zipper over his underwear making his heart beat double time.

There's no time for teasing, not even time to properly take his clothes off. He tugs at his pants and boxers a bit, just so that the band doesn't pull at his hips and he can take his cock out, the feeling of skin on skin immediately making him drop on the backrest of the desk chair. It gives a little, and he throws his head back, closes his eyes as his thumb rubs under the head of his cock.

It's a bit dry but he sure as hell is not going to be bothered to find any lotion. A couple of quick licks to his hand do. He's always liked it a bit dry, liked the friction and having to work for it, gritting his teeth when it gets a bit too much and he rubs his thumb over his slit instead, slightly teasing his nail over it. 

_Fuck Wooyoung._ And fuck his traitorous mind for not waiting a second from when San closes his eyes to conjure the image he needs most. Wooyoung between his spread legs, glancing up at San reclining in the chair, dramatically licking his lips and smirking. 

Determined as always, San would see him wrap a tight hand around his cock, too tight, too fast. He wouldn't even wait for long, wired up as he always is, to take San in his mouth, his tongue licking at the underside of his cock. Would take too much, would turn him up way too fast, would leave his hand on San to tug at what he can't reach, quick and merciless. 

San's hand does the same, tugs way too fast. He has to force himself to calm down, take a couple of deep breaths so he doesn't come too soon. 

He imagines Wooyoung pulling off. In his fantasy, Wooyoung keeps his mouth open and tongues at the head of San's cock, throws sultry eyes up to make sure San's watching what he's doing to him. He'd get off on the thought that he's putting on a show for San, sexy, always sexy Wooyoung, who has a hand on San's hip and controls the pace of it all. He knows where eyes go, he knows how to point his gaze and lick his lips and scrunch his eyes to make it look like he's putting the effort you want him to into it. 

He'd take San in his mouth again, take him deeper this time, would suck his cheeks in. 

San's hand tightens on his cock instinctively at the thought. It feels nothing like Wooyoung's mouth would probably feel, warm and wet and _tight._

A soft moan escapes him. It lifts him out of his fantasy for a little, enough for San to cover it with a cough and listen to whether there's any sound in the hallway. There's nothing, and his stilled hand resumes. 

Wooyoung wouldn't stop. San's heard him jerk off before even through the wall separating their rooms. Wooyoung probably doesn't care who hears him. Wooyoung would go on like nothing happened, Wooyoung would be the type to deepthroat San even with people banging on their door to leave for the studio.

A moan slips at the thought of Wooyoung deepthroating him. Just the thought that he'd be skilled enough to do it, hold San's hips down with an elbow as he takes him _deep_ and pulls back and does it again and again until San wouldn't help it and would fist a hand in his hair to tell him, wordlessly, how much it _gets to him._

He grips the armrest of the chair instead, a shiver passing through him. Wooyoung's hair would be soft, would fall into place when San lets go to put a hand on his nape, on his cheeks, feel Wooyoung taking him deep. A moan trembles through Wooyoung that San feels in his bones, thrusting forward before he tries to hold himself back. He wouldn't want to hurt Wooyoung, even accidentally. Would only fuck into his mouth when Wooyoung wordlessly tells him to, hands behind his back and mouth open, staring up at San with red cheeks and bruised lips. 

Wooyoung loves to do things that he can smirk through and pretend like he doesn't know what he's doing. Like now, as San pushes his cock into his mouth and Wooyoung tightens his lips in a circle around him. He goes soft because he doesn't need to go harder, can get off only on the visuals and the knowledge of what Wooyoung's doing to him. For him. 

His orgasm builds and builds until San lets go without more of a warning than a cut-off moan, his head back thrown and his hand gripping the chair. Wooyoung slips him out of his mouth and holds him with a hand so San comes on his face, on his chin, his lips, his nose, white strings of come that San has to open his eyes to see on Wooyoung's face. The striking image would only certify it more, that Wooyoung's _his,_ playing right into the possessiveness that San never knew he had until he realized he couldn't ever hold it back with him.

It comes crashing down too early, his fantasy breaking into shards. Sometimes it lasts longer, until San can catch his breath while imagining Wooyoung climbing backwards into his lap, throwing his head back against San's shoulder and leaning his back onto his chest to get San's hands to wrap around him. One would travel into his sweatpants and one would wrap around Wooyoung's chest to keep him in place when he grinds into San's hand. Wooyoung would be wet already, turned on from sucking San off, and San wouldn't even take him out of his sweatpants, would let the material rub over the head of his cock as he jerks him off, and Wooyoung, impatient as ever, would come in two seconds straight, staining the grey material and biting at San's hand so he doesn't moan too loud. San's precaution, not his. 

San almost _needs_ to imagine it now. It doesn't feel complete if he doesn't, tugging at his cock once more and then putting himself back in his boxers, fastening his button and tugging the zipper back up.

He's done this enough times that he thinks he's unconsciously timed his after practice jerk-off sessions to Seonghwa's showers. It only takes a few seconds until he hears the bathroom door open, which means it's his turn. 

He's parched though, his mouth feeling dry from the harsh breaths and the dry air of the dorm, so he puts his shirt back on and opens the door to pad into the kitchen instead. 

"Still haven't showered?" Wooyoung's voice rings out from behind him. 

San turns, smiling a soft smile. "No. Seonghwa-hyung just finished. Going now."

Wooyoung takes a few steps to him, suddenly wrapping his arms around San's middle. It takes San by surprise, but his own hands have built a reflex to fall on Wooyoung's shoulders and tangle behind his neck. Wooyoung's wet hair rests on his cheek and temple, the smell of his minty shampoo drafting up San's nose. 

On camera, Wooyoung's hugs are as long and thorough as the ones he gives San in private. San then allows himself to do the same, be as clingy as he is with him in public as he is in private. 

This can either be two ways: either Wooyoung doesn't feel at all like he does, so they're friends the same way in front of the glare of a camera and without what can feel like the omniscient presence of it... or he feels the same and he's hiding in plain sight, like San is. 

There's no way to really know. 

He dreams about it sometimes. Of being too caught up in pleasure to hold back Wooyoung's name from slipping from his lips, and Wooyoung would listen to him the same way San listens to him. 

Or of Wooyoung doing the same, and San rushing into his room in blind darkness to kiss him stupid. Or of a silly confession in this kitchen, maybe falling behind in step after practice to talk, Wooyoung resting his head against his shoulder in the car to tell him he has something to say when they get home. 

Maybe one day, San's head will turn by its own accord and his lips will kiss Wooyoung's wet hair, and they'll break this painful status quo they've built for themselves. 

Wooyoung shuffles on his feet, tilts his head down to press his forehead to San's shoulder. His arms tighten around San's middle.

"San-ah," Seonghwa's voice calls out from somewhere in the dorm. "The shower's yours."


End file.
